


What You Know

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Wedding Reception, alcohol consumption, lots of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 21:37:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9143281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime isn't averse to the idea of drinking his best friend's wedding reception away, even if he is the best man. However, the other best man has different ideas. Ones that involve waking up next to Sawamura Daichi and not much of a clue about how he got there.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EzzyDean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzzyDean/gifts).



> This is a gift for EzzyDean, who was one of the three winners of the Spooky Rarepairs drawing for @hq-rare-pairs on Tumblr. I was fortunate enough to be able to do this pairing, which I've loved for a long time yet never written.
> 
> Please note that this fic does contain themes of two people drinking and getting together. While an inadvisable practice, it's something that people do and it doesn't always end in disaster. Both of them are consenting adults and were in possession of enough of their faculties to make their decisions. If this bothers you, please do not read.

A hundred angry hammers pound inside of Iwaizumi Hajime’s head, and the chipper shards of sunlight leaking through the parted hotel room draperies leave a trail of fire from Hajime’s eyeballs all the way to the base of his throbbing skull. “Fuck,” he croaks, only to wince at the vile flavor stuck to every square millimeter of his mouth.

With a growl, he throws the sheet over his face and burrows beneath the too-warm covers, only for his nose to smash against something warm and solid. “What the —”

Hajime flings back the covers and sits up, and his eyes bulge when he sees the long, lean line of a well-muscled man about his own age, flesh completely bare save for the sliver of sheet haphazardly draped over his bottom. Dark hair curls around a familiar-ish face, which is squished against a drool-soaked pillow.

It’s then that Hajime’s weary senses start to register the smell in the room. There is a malaise of beer and something in the whisky family hanging in the air, as well as the pungent scent of sex that lingers in the sheets and the pillows and _everything_.

“Oh, my god.” He drops heavily back onto the bed, his abused brain loudly objecting as he lands, but Hajime can’t manage to care. “I can’t believe that actually happened.”

At this moment, his sleeping bedfellow starts to stir, toned limbs stretching as he peels himself off the mattress. Loudly, Sawamura Daichi yawns and turns to Hajime to give him a crooked smile. “Hey,” he says as he leans forward and snares Hajime’s mouth for a warm, lazy kiss.

Too surprised to pull away, Hajime responds, glad for some other flavor other than hangover on his tongue. Daichi tastes like the katsudon from the wedding reception, the candy from the bowls on the tables, with a hint of plum wine from the fountain Tooru had insisted he _had_ to have at his dream wedding.

But as Daichi pulls away and locks eyes with Hajime, his sleepy grin drifts into a frown. “Is this not okay?”

_No. Yes. What the fuck is happening?_ Hajime’s thoughts careen around in his distressed skull, garbling themselves against his mammoth headache as he tries and fails to piece together the gaps in his memory of the night before.

Wedding. Reception. Drinking. Food. More drinking. And . . . nothing.

“I don’t know,” Hajime admits as he throws an arm over his eyes. “I don’t remember.”

“Nothing?” Daichi scratches his head, ruffling a cowlick protruding from his temple. “Then what _do_ you remember?”

Hajime squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to assemble the last handful of memories from the night before. “The wedding,” he starts. “The toast, then dinner and the wine fountain.” He scowls. “Suga trying to get me and you to dance. I hid at the bar, probably drank way too much, and —”

“That's it?”

Nodding, Hajime repeats, “That's it.”

Daichi blushes as he props himself up against the headboard. “Well, then, this is probably embarrassing.”

“A little.” Hajime looks over at Daichi, who is visibly wilting under the awkwardness emanating from the situation.

Pulling the sheet a little more securely over his exposed limbs, Daichi asks, “Do you want me to tell you what happened after that?”

Hajime's face flames as he hides behind his knees. “I think I can work that part out, Sawamura.” He grinds his palms into his eyes in an effort to cram his gapped memory back into place, but all he does is remind himself that his eyes are dry and tired. He can feel Daichi tensing next to him, so with a sigh, he offers, “It isn't your fault, dude. This is on me.”

With a snort, Daichi says dryly, “Actually, you were on me.”

He breath in Hajime's lungs knots in his throat, making him wheeze in mirth until he can gasp, “I can't believe you said that out loud.”

“There, that's better.” Daichi lists over and bumps their shoulders together. “You sure you don't want to know?”

Hajime frowns as he rakes his fingers through his messy hair. “I didn't dance on a table or anything, did I?”

Daichi shakes his head. “Well, this is how it started . . .”

 

* * *

 

The insipid beat of a repetitive, two-chord pop song fills the reception hall as Hajime watches Tooru and Suga drunkenly undulate to the tune. “Fill ‘er up,” he grumbles as he slides his tumbler, empty save for melting ice and the last dregs of whisky, to the bartender. “Make it a double.”

“Aren’t you the best man?” the bartender asks as he drifts over to comply. “Usually, the best man is off telling embarrassing stories about the groom.”

Hajime snorts as he drains most of his newly full glass in one long drag, his face twisting at the bitter taste. “I wouldn’t even know where to start. I have thirty five years’ worth of ammo, so it isn’t even a fair fight.”

“I don’t think it’s supposed to be,” comes a voice over Hajime’s right shoulder, the owner of which eases into the stool next to him. “You just have to wait until it’s too late to run away.”

Nodding his head in acknowledgement, Hajime polishes off his drink and says, “Sawamura.”

“Daichi is fine,” his new companion corrects with a chuckle, the sweet smell of plum wine on his breath. “Besides, Suga would kill me if I didn’t treat you like family.”

“Ha!” Hajime bangs his glass on the counter, and with a sympathetic smile, the bartender sets down the half empty bottle and leaves. “So, when Oikawa gets married, I guess I do, too.” Dumping a liberal amount of liquor into his glass, Hajime drinks until his throat burns and his eyes water. “Fan-fucking-tastic.”

Daichi frowns as he picks up Hajime’s cup and gives it a cursory sniff, lip curling in distaste. “Maybe you should stop. Oikawa will be upset if you drink away his wedding.”

A rebuttal dances on the tip of Hajime’s tongue, but instead he looks across the room to the person he’s known longer than anyone who isn’t his parents. Tooru laughs as Suga whispers something in his ear, and he leans over to rest his forehead against his new husband’s. Hajime’s chest feels warm at the sight, and with a sigh, he pushes the glass away and says, “Damn it.”

Clapping Hajime’s shoulder, Daichi nods. “For what it’s worth, I actually kind of get it.”

“I doubt it.” Hajime glowers as he crosses his arms on the table, fighting the urge to pick up his glass again and wash away this entire encounter.

But the words seem to flow right around Daichi as he continues, “Seeing the best years of your life coming at you, and you don’t have anything to show for it but an empty apartment. Yet the people around you don’t have the decency to not leave you behind as they get everything you want.”

Hajime’s fist curls in his lap as he sends Daichi a murderous glare. “Don’t act like you know me, _Daichi_.” He spits out the name like an epithet. “Leave the bad advice for Oikawa.” He glances around the room to find a route of escape, but he shrinks inwardly when he sees that the happy couple are sidling over to them on wobbling feet. “This is your fault, Sawamura.”

Arms wrapped around Tooru’s bicep, Suga grins at Hajime. “Daichi, stop stealing Iwa-chan from the party.” Daichi shoots Hajime a sympathetic glance as he cringes at the pet name. “We’re still waiting for that dance.”

A smile oozes across Suga’s lips, and for a moment, Hajime feels a chill run down his spine. Sugawara Koushi doesn’t look dangerous, but every instinct in Hajime’s body tells him that this is not a man to be crossed. But even as he thinks this, Suga lurches forward and pecks a kiss on Hajime’s cheek. Lips lingering over Hajime’s ear, he whispers, “Daichi likes you.”

“Suga!” Daichi’s face burns as Suga and Tooru share a conspiratorial gaze. He turns to Hajime with a sheepish smile. “Ignore him. He’s imagining things.”

Tooru clucks his tongue as his arms wrap around Suga’s waist from behind. “Now, Kou-chan, not everyone is in love just because we are. If Sawamura-kun likes Iwa-chan, then let him get around to it when he’s ready.”

They share a glance over Suga’s shoulder, and Hajime has a sinking feeling this conversation is not a new one between them. “Don’t you two have some rabid fucking to do?”

“He’s right, you know,” Tooru says, giving Suga a look Hajime learned to decipher decades ago. A look of finality, the one he had used to get those few last minutes of serve practice in, to get the last piece of milk bread during sleepovers, to get Hajime to cave in to whatever he wanted. And as the friend Hajime has known since back before either of them were big enough to see over the railing of their cribs, he knows that Tooru is doing this for him, and will probably make sure Suga doesn’t bother either of them about it again.

There is a burst of affection in Hajime’s belly as he watches Suga heave Tooru over his shoulder and parade both of them out of the hotel’s ballroom and toward the elevators. A shower of whoops and cheers sends them off to the great newlywed beyond, and the feeling Hajime has been battling off the entire evening fills him with dread.

The feeling that none of this will ever happen for him.

Beside him, Daichi is silent and tense, but after the din of the room’s appreciation of the grooms’ public display dies down, he reiterates, “I get how you feel.”

Hajime realizes immediately that Daichi probably does understand, and he truly appreciates his companion’s presence for the first time. Sawamura Daichi isn’t who Hajime had envisioned whiling away the wedding reception with, but if he’s come to learn anything from his best friend, it’s to check his expectations at the door when it comes to anything concerning him or his new husband. Or his sort-of-kind-of extended family he is inheriting with the marriage.

“Hey, you wanna get out of here?” Daichi blurts as he shoots a glance at the clear path to the elevators, which will provide them with a clear escape to Hajime’s room upstairs. “No need to stay if the guests of honor are already gone.”

If he had not set down his drink, Hajime would have dropped it at Daichi’s proposition. “Are you serious? If we left together right after those two left like that, you know what people are gonna think.”

“People think Suga and I have been sleeping together for almost twenty years,” Daichi says with a shrug as he gestures to the bartender. “Can we get a bucket on ice with a six pack of whatever’s good?”

There is something unreadable on the bartender’s face as he returns quickly with Daichi’s request, who pushes away Hajime’s nearly-empty liquor bottle before sliding off of his stool. “Offer’s still open. You can sit here and wish you were the one who’s happy instead of your best friend, or you can come have a drink with me and maybe find out something you never knew you wanted.”

Hajime quirks a skeptical brow, even as his own feet are slipping off the footrest and onto the floor. “What makes you think I want you?”

“I don’t.” Daichi’s cheeks pinken as he holds up the bucket. “But I have beer and I hate to drink alone. I kind of think you do, too.”

Sighing because he knows he’s going to end up doing just as Daichi suggests, Hajime grumbles, “Yeah, yeah. Yours or mine?”

“Yours.” Daichi shivers. “I’m next door to the newlyweds.”

Sharing that little shudder of distaste, Hajime agrees, “Mine.”

 

* * *

 

“So you’re telling me we just came up here to drink and fuck?” Hajime scowls as he reaches down to tug the twisted bedsheet over every part of him it can reach. “Dude, I was drunk. That’s not cool.”

Daichi’s eyes bulge as he waves his hands emphatically. “No, that’s not it! I’d never do that.” He takes a deep breath and rubs his eyes. “Let me finish, all right?”

Hajime hugs his knees as he stares out into the rapidly brightening room. “Fine.”

 

* * *

 

The ice bucket sits between them on the bed as they quietly sit in Hajime’s hotel room. Hajime sips his beer as he waits for Daichi to break the silence, since he’s the one who keeps insisting that they chat. Yet he barely makes it a minute into the dead conversation before he interjects, “Talk, damn it. This is getting weird.”

“I had a crush on Suga forever,” Daichi says flatly. “Ever since our last year of high school, he’s the only person I could ever envision spending the rest of my life with. I wanted so see him smile and laugh and punch me in the arm when I do something dumb, but I also wanted to fall asleep every night with him right next to me. It’s what everybody wants, I guess, but I wanted that with Suga.”

Hajime fights the urge to squirm at Daichi’s confession, but even though Hajime can’t exactly relate as the idea of dating Tooru feels far too much like incest for his taste, he stays still and listens to every word of it. After all, Daichi has said he knows how Hajime feels, and Hajime is just drunk enough to want him to prove it.

“But then he comes home with the last person I’d ever imagine him being with, and he’s just so happy.” Daichi lets out a humorless chuckle. “I thought I hated Oikawa for taking Suga away from me, but that isn’t what happened. I wasn’t jealous, I was —”

“Lonely.”

Daichi doesn’t seem at all surprised when Hajime finishes his thought. Instead, he huffs a ragged breath and throws himself backward spread-eagle on the bedspread. “It sucks.”

“Yeah.” Hajime’s voice cracks as his hands knot into fists on his thighs. “You wonder why nobody picked you. What you did wrong, or if you’re just defective.” His fingernails dig painfully into his palms, but Hajime thinks it can’t hurt any worse than the prospect of drinking away his sorrows every time one of his friends finds their happily ever after.

They both grow quiet, and Hajime begins to think it’s time to kick Daichi out and just sleep the rest of this night away when the latter starts chuckling. “Imagine my surprise,” Daichi says with a wry smile, “when you started showing up at all their little house parties and family gatherings I got dragged to. It didn’t take long before I started looking forward to seeing you there and maybe getting in a word or two. Not long after that, I realized that my feelings for Suga weren’t what I thought they were. I loved him because he was familiar and I liked the idea of being with him. But you were different. ”

“So you got a rebound crush on me. Goody.” Hajime scoots to the other side of the bed away from Daichi’s sprawled form and crosses his arms. “Well, as nice as it is to be your flavor of the week, Sawamura, I’m not dating you because you wish you didn’t waste a couple of decades chasing someone who didn’t want you. I’m not into pity.”

Daichi sits up next to him, back rigid as he asks quietly, “Then what are you into?”

“I don’t know,” Hajime answers honestly. “I figured I’d know it when I saw it.”

“But what if you weren’t looking and you missed it? Or if you were looking at something else?”

“I —” Hajime has no answer to that as he looks over at Daichi’s earnest figure. He isn’t anything like the image in Hajime’s head as he pictures the perfect life partner. In his mind is a dark-haired woman around his own age — tall, but not too tall, with a sense of humor and a nice athletic figure. His parents will like her, and so will his sisters, and she’ll have just enough of a bullshit tolerance to navigate the choppy waters of existence in the vicinity of someone like Tooru. But even as he tries to conjure that mental image, he finds that the description is perilously close to everything he knows about Daichi, who only fails the test in one obvious category. And Hajime isn’t too attached to the gender part of his ideal mate. The idea of being with a guy doesn’t seem all that different.

Hajime snorts. “Do you always get this chatty when you drink?”

“Suga always seemed to enjoy it.”

Waiting for the mention of Suga to dampen the warm tingling seeping into his limbs, Hajime is pleasantly surprised to find that it doesn’t come. “Huh.” He leans over to look Daichi over with a new gaze. He’s not disinterested in the way Daichi’s thighs look muscular even through the thick fabric of his tuxedo trousers, nor is Hajime immune to the breadth of his shoulders and the way a day’s growth of stubble sharpens Daichi’s jaw rather than softens it.

Okay, so Sawamura Daichi is actually hot, and as he reaches for the bucket of beer to put it on the floor, Hajime starts to think less and less that this is a bad idea, after all.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the previous evening slowly begins to trickle back into Hajime’s aching brain. He recalls being kissed and bitten and sucked in places he’s sure have never been touched by anyone since he was a baby, and his own surprisingly arden reciprocation as he had basked in the sight of Daichi writhing beneath him. Then there had been the most awkward room service call ever to bring them lube and condoms, followed by Daichi coaching him through the process of preparation. And the otherworldly feeling of freeing himself to just _feel_ for a little while.

But what sticks the most was overwhelming aura of peace as he had succumbed to a cocktail of bliss and alcohol. Covered in sweat and satisfaction, Hajime had felt like they’d fended off the world a bit, and as he watched Daichi fall asleep with a smile and his face smashed into the pillow, he knew he had his unexpected guest to thank for that little slice of freedom. Freedom from himself and being trapped by his own expectations, from being subject to his own fear of being alone forever. Oh, and that his headache is probably a product of polishing off the bucket of beer during the afterglow while Daichi lightly snored.

Yet even as he starts to process this wealth of insight into himself and into Daichi, Hajime notices that his bedfellow is still tense beside him. With a soft, crooked smile, he says, “I think I remember now?”

“Oh?” Daichi’s eyes light up as he leans in closer. “What do you remember, then?”

Eyes narrowed in mischief, Hajime says, “There’s this thing you do with your tongue, but I’m not exactly sure how you did it.”

“You want me to show you?”

“Hell yeah, I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to finish this fic a while ago, but I work in retail and it was the shopping apocalypse season and I was Tired. But it gave me a chance to post on Daichi's birthday, so it's not a complete loss.
> 
> Thank you for participating in the Spooky Rarepairs challenge and for all you do for the rarepair community. Please accept this small token of my esteem for your work.


End file.
